


Week Six

by artemisgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bloating, Complaining about pregnancy, Cramps, F/M, Nausea, Pregnancy, did you know that embryo implantation actually hurts?, really just a gratuitous excuse for the author to bitch and complain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 14:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisgirl/pseuds/artemisgirl
Summary: Having heard from his partner that Hermione was recently in Saint Mungo's, Harry insists he and Blaise stop over to check on Hermione and Severus.Hermione is not feeling well, in pain, and very vocal about it.Harry somewhat regrets his decision to interfere.





	Week Six

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Granger Enchanted 2019 Severus Snape's Slytherin Sunday one shot fic fest. The rules were:
> 
> 1\. Your main ship must be Severus/Hermione  
2\. The main trope must be pregnancy/birth  
3\. It needs to be less than 5k words  
4\. You have to use the character Blaise Z.  
5\. You must not use or mention Ginny W. 
> 
> This trope theme worked amazingly and coincidentally well, actually, given recent personal experiences of my own. 
> 
> This fic is also unbeta'd, as my usual betas are all people I know in real life, and they can't know anything about all this sort of business until after week twelve, can they~?
> 
> (really, this fic was just a chance to vent and bitch using Hermione's mouth as my own, but what is fanfiction if not an alternative for therapy?)

“It is _bullshit_, Harry. Complete and utter _bullshit_.”

Harry gave Hermione an uncertain look as she glared down at another grape, before popping in her mouth.

“I mean… you wanted this though, right?” Harry ventured. “So isn’t this a good thing?”

“Oh, absolutely. We’ve been trying for a child,” Hermione said. “But like… I’d heard stories about pregnancy growing up. You can’t really avoid them, if you’re a woman.”

“Make sense,” Harry said.

“And I’d heard stories of how bad labor could be, stories of the weird cravings, stories of awful morning sickness, stories of back pain, and stories of the baby kicking or punching or hiccupping,” Hermione said, waving a hand. “I _thought_ I had heard it all…”

“But?” Harry prompted.

“_But_, no one ever mentioned that pregnancy _hurts_,” Hermione finished. She shot him a glare. “No one.”

“It… hurts?” Harry said, halting. “I thought it didn’t hurt until it was time to push the baby out.”

Hermione laughed, a dry ironic sound. “So did I…”

Harry watched her as she fished for another grape and peeled it with her teeth, eating the skin before eating the rest of it.

“And now, I just feel so _stupid_,” she admitted. “Of _course_ it would hurt – the uterus is literally expanding and growing. There’s cramping from the growing pains. But I never expected that. And- oh!”

She sat up straight, rapidly, and Harry froze.

“Did you know,” Hermione said, “that there’s something called _implantation pain_?”

“Umm,” Harry said. “No?”

“Well, there _is_,” Hermione said, crossing her arms. “Not that _I_ knew of it. _I_ thought I had appendicitis or an ectopic pregnancy and my fallopian tube was about to burst. It was _awful_ – this sharp, intense pain on my one side in the lower abdomen, and it was like that for _hours_, Harry. _Hours._”

“That sounds… really bad.” Harry looked obviously uncomfortable at the entire conversation, but he was trying his best.

“It _was_. And of course, there aren’t any safe potions to take during pregnancy, because the wizarding world doesn’t do adequate testing of their potions before production,” Hermione snapped, “so all I had was Muggle methods. And all they have approved safe for use is Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?” Harry flinched. “For appendicitis-level pain?”

Hermione snorted. “Exactly.”

She glared down at her grapes. Harry looked at them too, but he could see no cause for her anger at the grapes. A laugh from the other room echoed through the cracked door, and Harry felt an odd longing to be in that room instead.

“Do you want me to get you something else?” he offered. Hermione looked up at him, and Harry gestured. “Your grapes,” he said. “You keep glaring at them.”

Hermione sighed.

“_No_,” she said. “I’m just… you’re supposed to have small meals and snack throughout the day to help combat nausea.”

Harry blinked. “I thought that didn’t kick in until later?”

“So did _I_,” Hermione snarled. “Nausea is always listed as a side effect from weeks 6-12, abating by week 13 or 14. I _never_ saw it hit _earlier_, but I was 5 weeks and 3 days, and BAM! I felt like I was going to lose my lunch.”

“Are you… happy?” Harry asked her. “This seems to be a lot rougher than you expected.”

“Oh, it _is_,” Hermione said. She looked down at her stomach; Harry’s eyes followed. It _did_ seem bigger than usual, but given the baby would be about the size of a sesame seed, Harry suspected it was just all the bloating and constipation Hermione had been complaining about earlier.

“I very much want this,” Hermione admitted, sighing. “It’s just… it’s not what I _expected_, you know? If I had been forewarned, I could have _planned_ for it.”

“Planned for it?” Harry repeated. “How?”

“I could have started going on small walks to prevent the pain,” Hermione said, ticking things off on her fingers. “I could have taken my prenatal at night, instead of in the morning, to help avoid nausea. I could have opened the windows to air out the house to avoid certain smells ever triggering my stomach to revolt. I was _going_ to do these things at _six weeks_, but I didn’t _know_ I might need to do them earlier.”

“You still _can_,” Harry pointed out. “I can help you open all the windows if you want?”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said, offering him a small smile. “That’s kind of you to offer. I’ve already done that, though, so it’s okay.”

She shifted in her seat and groaned, one hand flying to her lower belly. She looked down at it with a scowl.

“Six weeks and one day, and it _still_ hurts,” she sulked. “I already can’t wait for the second trimester, and I have another _six weeks_ to wait.” She sighed, then looked up at Harry. “Enough of my complaining – what’s new with you?”

She seemed genuinely interested, so Harry, hesitating at first, then growing in confidence, started to tell her what all he was up to lately in the Auror office.

In the next room over, Severus was enjoying a whiskey with Blaise in his study.

“She was _mad_,” Blaise said, snickering. “She came in thinking she was _dying_, and then none of our scans could turn up anything. _Then_ she threatened to hex my balls off if I told Harry.”

“I can’t blame her,” Severus said, smirking. “Clear violation of healer-patient confidentiality.”

“Yeah, but she knew she was going to tell Harry anyway,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

“She wasn’t,” Severus commented. “We weren’t going to tell _anyone_ until after 12 weeks. The risk of miscarriage drops dramatically at that point.”

“She’s what, 28? 29? Her risk is 10%-15%, max,” Blaise said, waving a hand. “You’re mixed blood, and she’s Muggle-born. She’s not going to have _nearly_ the risk that a pureblood witch would have.”

“Still…” Severus looked down into his drink. “There’s always the chance.”

Blaise glanced at Severus, picking up on his melancholy tone.

“There is,” he said gently. “But her uterus looked fine and normal. There was a healthy pregnancy sac in place. Too early to see the baby, but we could see the sac at least, which is a good sign.”

Severus sighed, pinching his nose.

“It’s just… I can’t _do anything_ to help her,” he admitted. “Feeling powerless to help her… it feels a lot like fear.”

Blaise shrugged.

“It’ll only get worse with a kid,” he said, cheekily. “You’ll be powerless to help them, as they try to walk and fall flat on their nose again and again.”

“That’s what Cushioning Charms are for,” Severus shot back, and Blaise laughed before standing.

“You just keep telling yourself that,” he told him. He stretched. “I’ll be collecting my partner before Hermione complains his ear off.”

“She’s not that bad,” Severus snorted. “She’s in pain; you’d be complaining just as much or even worse.”

“Ah, but I’m not pregnant, am I?” Blaise said, smirking. “So I’m not.”

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes, setting down his empty whiskey glass and leading Blaise back into the living room.

“Granger telling you horror stories, Potter?” Blaise asked, going over to wrap his arms around Harry from behind. “Got you all terrified about having kids?”

“I can’t _have_ kids,” Harry shot back, his arms instinctively coming up to hold Blaise’s.

“Oh? Are you sure?” Blaise purred. “Want to try and make sure?”

Harry blushed a brilliant red, and Blaise laughed.

“You two make me sick,” Severus said, sneering. “Go flaunt your perversions somewhere else.”

Blaise gave him a wink, while Harry stiffened.

“Ah, yes sir – Severus, I mean – sorry-”

“We’ll see you soon, Harry,” Hermione said, shooting her husband a dark look. “Take care, Blaise.”

“Oh, I will,” Blaise assured her, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the fire. “And I’ll take care of Harry, too.”

“_Blaise-!_”

Blaise laughed at Harry’s scandalized tone, and with a loud cry of, “Grimmauld Place!”, they were gone.

The living room was quiet in their absence, and Severus settled himself down onto the sofa near his wife.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he asked. He ran his hand up and down her arm, and Hermione sighed.

“Tired,” she admitted. “Vaguely nauseated, though that comes in waves. And crampy. And my breasts _hurt_.”

“Still?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“They won’t stop aching anytime soon,” Hermione informed him. “Did you know the average woman gains _two pounds_ of weight just in her breasts during pregnancy?”

“I did not,” Severus told her. He cupped one of her breasts gently, lightly running his thumb over the front. “Do they really?”

“Severus…” Hermione’s voice was a warning. “Be gentle.”

“I can be gentle…”

His voice was silken, seductive, and he placed himself behind Hermione, tugging her into his lap as he gently ran his hands over her changing body.

“I hurt,” Hermione objected. “I’m not likely to be any good.”

“Making love with you is always good,” Severus gently chided her. “And orgasm can help with cramping. Just let me do the work…”

He turned her face to capture her lips, Hermione melting into him. Soon, she was moaning quietly and squirming against him slightly, and Severus felt satisfaction and pride curl through him. He _was_ good at this, as Hermione well knew and appreciated. He _did_ manage to get her pregnant, after all.

And as happy as they both were about the pregnancy, Severus knew he’d never stop wanting to keep ‘practicing’ with Hermione again and again and again.


End file.
